Masculine Bonds Develop Differently, Female Friendships A Distinct Way. Should We Halt Efforts to Turn Men More Like Women?

It's beneficial to talk. That's what men are constantly advised, by everyone from mental health campaigners to the partners they live with. These women are puzzled by the common male habit to pass an entire evening in the pub with decades-old friends, yet return utterly clueless about the significant events in each other's lives. What might they possibly be doing, all that time? Why haven't they asked how X is coping with his breakup, or how Y is dealing with the loss of his father?

For women, whose personal friendships typically revolve around an intimate and encyclopaedic understanding of each other's innermost feelings, this form of male intimacy—based on apparently avoiding meaningful conversation—can appear oddly hollow and sad. No wonder, we think, that more than 25% of UK men report having zero close friends; that male loneliness is pervasive; that many refuse to see a doctor until in dire straits; that male suicide rates repeatedly exceed female ones; and that countless middle-aged men, especially, seem permanently frustrated for unarticulated reasons. Suppressing everything up helps nobody.

Rethinking the Merit of Quiet Friendship

Yet, according to researcher Thomas Yarrow, this view may undervalue the strengths of the resilient and quiet friendship. Professor Yarrow, from Durham University, was studying volunteers at a historic steam railway in the north of England when he was impressed with the closeness developed among these predominantly older men. His four-year observation has been published as a paper contending that, particularly for men raised in an era of the stiff upper lip, the worth of friendships built around shared hobbies—"doing things together, often in comfortable silence"—may be underappreciated.

This quiet form of friendship "isn't bad or outdated, it's just distinct," Yarrow suggests.

Admittedly, this can seem disconcertingly similar to how toddlers play—next to each other rather than engaging with each other. But Yarrow's point is clear: just because it's not your ideal idea of friendship doesn't mean it lacks value. Perhaps we should let these men in peace with their trains, golf, or classic car projects—whichever pursuit allows them to enjoy time in the presence of others who likewise appreciate less chatter.

Past Words: The Unspoken Dialect of Care

Fortunately, Yarrow is explicitly not arguing that expressing emotion is weak, nor calling for a return to the past. Instead, he makes the point that emotionally expressive talk isn't for everyone, and that deeper things may be occurring beneath the exterior of seemingly reticent friendships. Could he be right?

From a female viewpoint, one is obviously no expert on male-to-male dialogue. But years of experience suggests that while men may be hesitant initially to open up sensitive matters, once they begin, they can be astonishingly open. A lack of visible emotion should not be equated with a absence of feeling entirely.

Additionally, while modern men brought up in a more emotionally open culture may be more adept at articulating feelings, older men are not at all unable of it. Repackage soft emotions as acceptable "sports loyalty" or "team allegiance," and many men will readily vent frustration, hope, disappointment, or pride endlessly.

The most notable about Yarrow's railway enthusiasts is that, for all their aversion of discussing feelings, they still managed to express what seems remarkably like concern and solidarity. When an elderly volunteer didn't appear and then returned clearly unwell, his friends observed and were worried. But, as the professor notes, they intentionally didn't probe direct questions. Instead, they offered tea, told jokes, and tried to be subtly supportive while keeping routine. They were caring for each other pretty much as female friends would, except without ever naming the elephant in the room.

The Essential Question: Does Bonding Require Words?

This is not everyone's ideal way of connecting, and it may not be yours. But if the true therapeutic value of friendship—what that combats loneliness and despair—is fundamentally the awareness that another person cares enough to be present in life's difficulties with you, does that always be put into words?

The debate persists. Perhaps the most constructive approach is to acknowledge that different forms of friendship hold equal value, each meeting the emotional needs of different individuals in unique powerful way.